Marc Myers writes daily on jazz legends and legendary jazz recordings

April 2011

April 29, 2011

Grace Slick was Jefferson Airplane's lead singer. But she was much more than that. In the history of rock, her iconic voice, with its passing-gear force, stinging vibrato and flower-power passion marked a turning point in the music. Last week I interviewed Grace on a range of topics by phone. My Q&A with the San Francisco vocalist, who paved the way for two generations of rock singers, appears in today's Wall Street Journal (or go here).

Before Grace, female pop-rock singers were largely eye-candies—statuesque and poised in the manner of Jackie Kennedy, dressed in glittery mermaid gowns bearing frozen stares and beehive hairdos. And then came San Francisco in 1965. Influenced by the electric blues and Dylan's brand of folk, bands there played a different style of rock. Songs ran long and there were extended solos. Lyrics were rebellious and scornful of materialism and conformity. Akin to Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone, songs eschewed the sunny, formulaic conformity of pop-rock popular in Los Angeles and New York.

Jefferson Airplane was formed in 1965, and its lead singer was Signe Anderson. She had a low, husky voice and recorded on the band's first album, Jefferson Airplane Takes Off, in 1966. When Grace saw the band at the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco, she realized that singing in a band would be much more exciting than modeling for retailer I. Magnin, which she had been doing and disliked. "Too many clothing changes, too much judgment by clients and not enough art," she told me.

So Grace, her husband Jerry Slick and his brother Darby formed The Great Society. The band gigged in San Francisco, mainly at the Matrix, performing its vibrating brand of folk-rock. Included in their book of songs was Grace's White Rabbit (inspired by Miles Davis and Gil Evans' Sketches of Spain) and Darby's Somebody to Love. Soon, The Great Society was appearing at the Fillmore.

And then one day, Anderson gave notice, choosing to move away from San Francisco to raise a family. Grace was up in the balcony watching Jefferson Airplane rehearse when bassist Jack Casady came up and asked if she wanted to join the band. Grace didn't hesitate.

The band's first album was Surrealistic Pillow, and after the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper, the LP blew everything else away in 1967. In fact, Somebody to Love, with Grace's vocal joining Paul Kantner's, is arguably the song that is most identifiable with the late '60s counterculture movement. But thanks to Grace's finger-in-the-chest delivery, Somebody to Love also is the opening salvo of the free-love and feminist movements.

Grace, 71, is one of the few artists who can claim to have appeared at the Big Three—Monterey Pop, Woodstock and Altamont. She also was the oldest female vocalist on a Billboard Hot 100 #1 hit with Starship's We Built This City—in November 1985, shortly after her 46th birthday. She broke her own record in April 1987 at age 47 when Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now topped the chart. Her record stood for 12 years, until Cher, at age 53 in 1999, had a #1 hit with Believe.

Here are the questions and answers that I didn't have room to include in my Wall Street Journal interview today:

Marc Myers: Why did women especially identify with your voice in the late '60s and early '70s?Grace Slick: I was singing with the force and anger that women were afraid to express at the time. The anger wasn’t aimed at men but at conformity and the rules that applied only to us.

MM: Was folksinger Odetta an early vocal influence?GS: Only that she had a low voice and I have a low voice. What I truly admired, however, was her big delivery. I can’t sing softly in a high register but I can sing high loud. That ruled out singing lullabies to my daughter China when she was a baby. I would have blown her eardrums out.

MM: When did you realize you were a rock-and-roll sex symbol?GS: Was I? I always thought I was homely. My legs were short, my hair was frizzy and I had terrible vision. I was just good at putting myself together. And being myself.

MM: What made you so wild?GS: I’ve always been that way. I have no filter. Think of what it’s like when I’m drunk [laughs]. Which I haven't been in 15 years.

MM: What made the San Francisco rock scene so special in the mid- and late ‘60s? GS: It was a mash of everything. There was a strong blues tradition there, huge interest in folk, a love of Spanish music—all kinds of things. Jefferson Airplane was a mix. We were blues when Jorma [Kaukonen] was writing, folk with Paul Kantner, and Marty Balin was our love-song writer.

MM: Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead named your most famous album, Surrealistic Pillow, in 1967. What does it mean?GS: I have no idea. Gerry told one of the guys in the band. It was just a fun combination of words. Maybe it had to do with dreams. It was pleasantly bizarre.

MM: How were Jefferson Airplane songs assembled? They all seem like miniature symphonies. GS: It depends on how we chose to do it or what the songwriter asked of everyone else. Whoever wrote the song would sing it or show us how they wanted it done. I don’t write music. Jack Casady and Jorma Kaukonen can write, I think. But the rest of us couldn't read it anyway.

MM: How did you work it out?GS: The composer would write out the lyrics and put the chords where the music changed. Then everyone would do what they felt like, unless the songwriter had something specific in mind.

MM: How did your remember the lyrics?GS: I know. Paul’s stuff goes on and on and on. Mind you, I can’t remember my name. I can’t blame it on drugs. In school, I couldn’t remember a thing unless I studied the night before. I just couldn’t remember stuff over time. I had intense immediate retention. It’s kind of inconvenient [laughs].

MM: Did you always have a short attention span?GS: Yes. I think it’s because I’m so excited about everything I experience. One thing is knocking other things out of my head all the time. Or else I’m just stupid and my brain isn’t wired well. I can’t even remember my own songs. I wrote Panda [in 1989], but I have no idea what key it’s in. I can sing the first line but I've forgotten the rest of it. I can remember Paul’s songs better than mine.

MM: Did you ever forget lyrics?GS: The fear of forgetting lines made me nervous for a while until I realized that the music cued the lyric. I’d stand on stage and think, “I have no idea what the first line is.” I’d say, “Grace, don’t worry about it. After the intro, it will kick in.” And it always did. The only time I forgot a line, Mickey Thomas forgot the same line at the exact same moment in the early '80s when we were with Starship. And he never forgot lyrics. We both looked at each other. Rock and roll is so loud, we just came in where we picked it up and no one noticed.

MM: You know how important you are, don’t you?GS: Not really. Everybody’s sound changed rock and roll. It’s a big stew that has changed over time. I was just one ingredient.

MM: Yeah, but you’re the first modern rock vocalist.GS: I suppose so, but it didn’t seem so at the time. There were many female singers in San Francisco. Signe Anderson preceded me in Airplane, Janis [Joplin] was in Big Brother, the Grateful Dead had an occasional female singer, a woman sang with the Charlatans. And Ace of Cups was an all-female band.

MM: Are you still wild?GS: No. You go through segments of your life. I’m wild in that I’m still very outspoken. But I don’t do physically wild things because I’m 71. I’m opinionated, stubborn and sarcastic. If you don’t like it, you’ve got legs. You can leave.

MM: When was your last acid trip?GS: A long time ago. LSD was a set and setting drug. We learned a lot about it before we took it. For instance, you don’t take LSD in the middle of Times Square. It will probably scare you. You don’t take it with people who are unsympathetic to it. If you do, there’s going to be a clash and it will be unpleasant.

MM: Where was the ideal place to take it?GS: Outside around trees and around people who understood what’s going on. And it was best with a guide—someone who isn’t using it. So if there's anyone who’s on LSD who thinks they can fly, you tell them, “Maybe later…but not right now.” You talk them down.

MM: Weren’t you afraid of taking LSD?GS: No, oddly enough. The guy who first turned me on to acid was a British chemist for an oil company who invented the glue that makes those lane dividers on English streets stick to the ground. He had a ton of money but he didn’t dress like he did. He wore dumb-looking brown cords with suspenders. He had a beautiful face but he was a nerd. He said, "I want you to read all about LSD. Here’s what it does. Here are the possibilities. And here’s what you do when this happens or that happens." He also gave us books of M.C. Escher drawings. He'd say, "You see, this is possible. You can go here." We said, "OK, that’s kind of interesting." So we knew it could get gnarly.

MM: Where did you learn to draw and paint?GS: I drew all the time as a kid. I always knew I could sort of draw. When I was little, I drew an angel and my parents made a Christmas card out of it. I only do one thing at a time. I have one house, one child, one car and one man at a time. I’m not a good multitasker. Everything has to be one thing at a time, with a tremendous amount of focus.

MM: Was your 1968 rooftop performance in New York copied by the Beatles for Let It Be in 1969?GS: Yeah, probably. We were the first to disturb an entire neighborhood of office workers on a rooftop [laughs]. We performed two songs, loud, at midday. No one knew where the music was coming from or why. Director Jean-Luc Godard put us up there and filmed us from across the street as well as people looking up. It was way cool until the cops showed up. No one went to jail, though.

MM: You performed at Monterey Pop in 1967 and Woodstock and Altamont in 1969. Which of the three was your favorite?GS: The best festival for me was Monterey. Woodstock was muddy and Altamont was violent. At Woodstock, the bands couldn’t watch each other perform unless there was a delay on the stage. Everyone had to stay at a hotel nearby. A helicopter picked you up just before you went on and dropped you off to perform. It took you back to the hotel as soon as you were done. There was no place to hang around.

MM: And at Monterey?GS: We got to see everybody. We had heard records by Jimi Hendrix, Ravi Shankar, the Who and others. But we had never seen many of the acts perform.

MM: You wore white to Woodstock?GS: [Laughs] I didn’t know the weather was going to be a mess. You buy your clothes before you go on a road trip. The outfit was handmade. I bought it at a store in Fairfax, Calif. We were flown in to the stage for a 9 p.m. appearance. But there was a problem, so we had to sit backstage smoking dope and talking all night. I put something down to keep my white pants clean. We finally went on at 6 a.m., which was a little funky.

MM: At Altamont four months later, you tried to calm the Hells Angels by acting like their mom.GS: I sang softly, “Easy, easy,” hoping that it would do the trick. But it didn’t. I wasn’t wearing my contacts, so everything was blurry. I don’t think the Hells Angels would have hit me if I had screamed, “Cut that shit out” or I pushed them. You have to get right in people’s faces.

MM: Do you listen to your recordings today?GS: Mine? No. What for? I already recorded them. I don’t want to waste time. I don’t have a lot of time left, so I don’t want to waste it doing something I’ve already done.

MM: Why did David Crosby call you the Chrome Nun?GS: It had nothing to do with the two of us. I had never fucked David Crosby. There was a place where I could have, but I didn’t. Paul [Kantner] and I took a seaplane to Crosby’s boat somewhere off the coast of Florida. There were nude blonde girls running around serving, while everyone was walking around without clothes on.

MM: Did you keep your clothes on?GS: The only reason I didn’t take my clothes off is that all those girls had big boobs, long legs and were tan. I had no boobs, I was white as a sheet and I wasn’t going to be compared to those people.

MM: So where did the name come from?GS: Crosby got an idea at that point that I was a little bit straighter than he imagined. Chrome is probably the defense mechanism part. Car bumpers were made out of chrome. The nun reference is my not getting into the scene. I never did orgies, not because I didn’t like the idea. I have nothing against them. But I only do one thing at a time. That was multitasking.

MM: You slept with Jim Morrison and nearly shot David Crosby’s head off by mistake. Talk about being at the center of things. Anything else you haven’t discussed that would surprise people?GS: Not really.

MM: You were a role model for many women in the 70s. Why?GS: Women don’t have the physical power that you do but we have the weasel power. We have to use our heads to get around you because you use physical power.

MM: You were pretty striking, more so than Janis Joplin.GS: With Janis, I could have fixed her up. I would have given her laser treatment on her face and taught her to do makeup, and improved her posture. She had a great body.

MM: What group did you listen to earlier on your iPod?GS: Del Castillo. They sing in Spanish and English. They’re from Austin, Texas. They’re wonderful.

MM: Which of your solo albums is your favorite?GS:Dreams. I love Manhole, too. But I love the lyrics on Dreams. They’re real honest and come from my own experience. Except the title song. That one wasn’t written by me.

MM: Were the 60s fun?GS: Oh yeah. Weird stuff went on all the time, particularly if you worked in rock and roll. We got used to it and appreciated that it was going on. I’m so grateful to have lived through that period.

MM: You have a pretty liberated way of looking at things.GS: At my house, you can wear what you want here and say what you want and do whatever you want. Why not? Why would you tie yourself to somebody else’s idea of what’s right? If people never want to swear, good. That’s their plan. But I hope you got it from yourself and not just because your parents told you that.

MM: You were in an induced coma for two months in 2006?GS: Yes. All I remember are wild dreams. I dreamed I was in different hospitals. I knew I was sick. But in my coma dream, they sent me to London. Then I was in Wisconsin. I kept going to sleep. My dreams were vivid.

MM: Do you sing your songs around the house? GS: No. I can’t remember them. Seriously.

JazzWax tracks: My two favorite Jefferson Airplane albums are Surrealistic Pillow (1967) and Crown of Creation (1968). Both have enormous '60s rock-folk edge. Her solo albums, Dreams and Manhole, are superb vocal outings. And, of course, Starship's We Built This City (1986) and Nothing's Gonna to Stop Us Now are pure '80s rock-pop.

JazzWax cips: Here's Grace Slick's composition, White Rabbit, during a Jefferson Airplane appearance on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in 1967. This type of singing was brand new to rock at the time. The song was inspired by Miles Davis and Gil Evans' Sketches of Spain, and according to Grace, the White Rabbit represented curiosity...

And here's Jean-Luc Godard's One P.M., featuring the Jefferson Airplane on the rooftop of a Manhattan building in November 1968. The Beatles Let It Be on the London rooftop of Apple's studios would follow in 1969.

April 28, 2011

Last week I posted on Paul Weston's Mood for 12, a mid-'50s relaxing delight that I feel is among the smartest "easy listening" albums of the decade. My Weston post triggered a wave of emails from secret easy-listening listeners who offered up their own suggestions. Among the emailers was arranger, writer and jazz historian Jeff Sultanof, who favors Robert Farnon [pictured].

Admittedly, I've never been a big Farnon guy. A little heavy on the "easy" for me and not nearly enough edge. But Farnon is highly regarded by arrangers for good reason: His mastery with enormous string sections. And he does grow on you if you focus on what he's doing with those soothing strings. So I asked Jeff if he'd provide a list of his favorites for those who might be curious.

Here's Jeff Sultanof's list and comments:

Sunny Side Up: The Music of DeSylva, Brown and Henderson. "Farnon's masterpiece as an arranger, and one of the finest albums of orchestral arrangements ever written. He knew their value. He re-recorded several of them over the years." This one is available at iTunes.

Presenting Robert Farnon. "A good overall starting place. A couple of tracks also have jazz solos. Included are two Alec Wilder pieces and a version of Laura that the composer David Raksin loved." This one is available at iTunes.

How Beautiful is Night. "This one features pianist George Shearing with the Robert Farnon Orchestra." This one is available at iTunes.

Melody Fair. "Farnon originally composed these pieces for publisher Chappell's music library. These themes were heard all over radio and television during the '50s and '60s." This one is available at iTunes.

Canadian Impressions. "All library music, grouped by Robert Farnon as a suite. Gateway to the West was the theme for The David Susskind Show." This one is available at iTunes.

Tony Bennett: With Love. "One of Bennett's finest albums, barely released in 1972 when Clive Davis was dumping the older artists on his label." This one was never issued on CD and is available only on vinyl.

Sinatra Sings Songs from Great Britain. "This album wasn't Sinatra's finest moment, and it went unreleased in the U.S. for many years. But some of the arrangements are among the best Sinatra ever sung to. A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square cannot be missed." This is available at iTunes.

J.J. Johnson: Tangence. "J.J. had always wanted to record with Farnon, and he got his chance. This suffers from a poor mixdown, but is well worth hearing." This is available on CD from independent sellers here.

JazzWax note: Though I'm not a Farnonite, I will say that my favorite Tony Bennett album with Robert Farnon is actually a swinger: The Good Things in Life (Verve) from 1972. It features a drop-dead uptempo recording of End of a Love Affair. Unfortunately, the album never made the leap to digital in the U.S. A Japanese CD of the album was available but is now out of print.

JazzWax clip: Here, the Singers Unlimited take on Robert Farnon's gorgeous How Beautiful Is Night...

April 27, 2011

In the late '50s, through the '60s and into the '70s, albums by sax-organ combos seem to have been recorded every three minutes at Rudy Van Gelder's studio in New Jersey. The Prestige label cornered the market on this format early, matching every possible Hammond B3 player with every conceivable tenor saxophonist. The number of reed-organ recordings for Prestige easily must total in the hundreds.

Among the most consistently interesting of these sessions were recordings by Shirley Scott [pictured above] and her then husband Stanley Turrentine [pictured left]. Turrentine's swinging freight-train sax backed by Scott's reed-section-sounding organ had a certain something that most other combos did not. If you analyze it, much had to do with the slow cook of both artists and how they goosed and played off each other. This was a partnership—not one instrument backed by the other.

The Turrentine-Scott sweet spot ran between 1961 and 1964, and the merger started with Hip Soul. Recorded in June 1961 about a year after the two married, the album is among their best summits. Of course, I say this loosely, since so many of their albums were perfect jazz-soul unions, including Never Let Me Go (1963) and Hustlin' (1964). But Hip Soul has something more, delivering a special clarity and purpose.

For one, Scott's organ on the date is set with skating-rink stops that made her chords and notes swell and soar. Turrentine is bitingly quick and soulful, hitting the gas on his boss tenor sound and then rearing back smoothly into a soft hush. This is a church conversation between equals. Scott's solos are as extensive and as well framed as Turrentine's, and both bring a huge gospel feel.

Joining Scott and Turrentine are Herbie Lewis on bass and Roy Brooks on drums. Interestingly, Turrentine appeared under the name Stan Turner, a pseudonym he had to take on due to his existing Blue Note contract. There are six tracks: Hip Soul is a rich, groovy blues by Turrentine; 411 West is a medium-tempo Benny Golson composition (with amazing solos by both artists); By Myself is the Dietz and Schwartz standard; Trane's Blues is John Coltrane's tune from a 1956 session with Paul Chambers; Stanley's Time is another Turrentine blues, and Out of This World is the Arlen and Mercer standard given a soulful flash fry by Scott and Turrentine.

In 1961, Scott and Turrentine managed to intertwine love and music. The result was a richness that superseded other organ-sax combos. Unfortunately, the Scott-Turrentine marriage would last only until 1970. But while they were together, they made some beautiful albums. The first was particularly special. [Pictured, from left: personal manager and bassist John Levy, Shirley Scott and Stanely Turrentine; courtesy of John and Devra Hall Levy]

JazzWax tracks:Hip Soul is not in print as a stand-alone album, but all of the material from the date is featured on Shirley Scott: Legends of Acid Jazz as the first six tracks. You'll find the album here.

JazzWax clip: There don't appear to be tracks from Hip Soul on YouTube. But here'sMajor's Minor from Never Let Me Go (1963). It will give you a fine sense of how these two played together...

April 26, 2011

There's something haunting about Robert Johnson's voice. The blues singer-guitarist sounds at once cock-sure and frightened, giving his recordings the feel of both perspiration and a cold sweat. As I wrote in Friday's Wall Street Journal review (here), Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings (Sony/Legacy) continues to illustrate that given a chance, simplicity and passion will trump technique and quantity every time. I also spoke with Steven Lasker, the new set's engineer. More with Steven in a moment.

Johnson recorded only 29 master tracks, yet he was one of the most powerful influences on jazz, folk and rock of the '40s, '50s and '60s. Why is this the case? After all, there were plenty of blues artists before and since, and many were authentic products of the Mississippi Delta. There are three general reasons, with the first two being less important than the third.

First, the spare number of sides that Johnson recorded helped establish his mystique. Scarcity has a way of concentrating focus and increasing demand. Second, Johnson died young—at age 27. He was poisoned after fooling around with the owner of a juke joint outside Greenwood, Miss., where he was performing. Sudden death and high-risk affairs also work wonders on legacies.

But even more important is the fact that Johnson's recordings are emotionally restless. As you listen to them, they come across like an uncontrollable shiver. His guitar playing is jangly and jarring, as though he's strumming an aluminum instrument with copper wires. Through his wails and low-voice grumbles, we taste the clay dust of the South and smell the thick foliage. In this regard, Johnson's songs have transporting powers.

While all of Johnson's recordings have been available digitally since the '90s, this new set is absolutely free of hiss and pops, and now has a conical depth and warmth that makes Johnson sound even more intimate and contemporary. You can even hear the guitar strings move and his hands slide down the neck.

Born in 1911, Johnson took an early interest in music. His career began in earnest in 1930, after his wife and child died in childbirth. Restless, Johnson moved steadily from town to town with his guitar, playing for money whenever he could land a job. Unlike his contemporaries, his blues wasn't the stuff of cotton picking or hammering railroad ties. Instead, what we have are stories of love, travels and battling personal demons.

Johnson also offered the listener enormous variation. His guitar playing switched from rhythmic swing to twangy lines, often within the same song. There's also an economical purity to his playing. Johnson never tries to show off but instead is merely concerned with a solid rhythmic accompaniment and textured interchanges with his voice.

Adding to his aura was Johnson's claim that his guitar-playing prowess was the result of a chance midnight encounter with the devil at the intersection of several roads. Johnson certainly understood the value of being mystified by one's own genius and the drama of of summoning Mephistopheles.

Unfortunately, Johnson's recording success swelled his head, leading him to think of himself as invincible. Which is yet another reason why '60s British guitar rockers found his blues so endearing and his story so compelling. What's '60s rock without demons?

Johnson died in August 1938—just months before being discovered on a national level. As Stephen C. LaVere writes in the the new set's liner-notes bio:

"In late 1938, [producer] John Hammond began recruiting talent for his first From Spirituals to Swing concert. He called Don Law in Dallas and asked him if he could round up Robert Johnson and get him to New York for his presentation at Carnegie Hall. Hammond thought Johnson the greatest of all the country blues players and wanted him to fill one of the opening slots in his show.

"Law got the word to [record company owner] Ernie Oertle, who set out to locate Johnson. It had been more than a year since Oertle had been in contact with Johnson, and it took some digging before he learned the truth and got it back to Law—Johnson had died recently under uncertain circumstances...

"Johnson's failure to appear at From Spirituals to Swing was a great disappointment to Hammond, and he never stopped pondering what it could have meant to Johnson had he been able to make it."

Johnson remains a ghostly figure, his songs being the only evidence we have of a bluesman who seemed to have visited the future and was merely reporting back in song.

JazzWax note: If you already own earlier issues of Robert Johnson's recordings from the '90s and are wondering whether the new set sounds good enough to replace yours, I would say there's no comparison in terms of clarity, warmth and detail.

How good is it? I reached out to Steven Lasker, the Johnson project's engineer, for a little detail. Here's what he said:

"Hi Marc. The hiss was reduced, and most of the clicks and crackle were removed, by a single pass of CEDAR CAMBRIDGE. Then the 24-bit tapes went to Seth Winner, who spent some 50 hours intensively removing what clicks and crackle remained with CEDAR retouch, along with considerable 120-cycle hum that came off of the original recording equipment in Dallas in 1937. Seth also miraculously fixed the engineer's 'duck and recover' at the end of Malted Milk. He is the only person ever to fix this problem, which is found on the original 78-rpm and all other issues.

"I have something like 100 different styli to select from, and a proper fit gives best sound. Then, too, I use a stylus with a sensitive cantilever which picks up lots of musical information—and lots of non-musical extraneous vibrations, which is why most transfer engineers settle for a stylus with a stiffer cantilever.

"I've also figured out how to tame the non-musical vibrations with a tonearm stabilizer, a device of my own invention. This allows the stylus to consistently track down the very center of a lateral groove, which is where the small fractals are found. It allows me to track at a far lighter tracking force.

"This is important, because with a heavier tracking force, separation is lessened. The equation is the greater the separation, the less mud in a transfer. (The theory behind all this was first, at least to my knowledge, explained in an article in the September 1939 issue of Fortune magazine, which, among other things, attempted to explain why there was so much greater separation and higher fidelity on vertical recordings as opposed to lateral ones.)

"Better mechanical playback technique results in higher fidelity sound, it's that simple. By the way, there was next to no equalization applied to these transfers other than turnover eq.

"Thanks for the opportunity to share my thoughts about a subject I'm passionate about: how to get the best sound out of a 78-rpm coarse groove."

JazzWax tracks:Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings (Sony/Legacy) comes in two different packages. The first is a two-CD set that holds Johnson's master and alternate takes from his San Antonio and Dallas sessions in 1936 and 1937, respectively. You'll find this two-CD set here.

Sony also is issuing a Centennial Edition with 12 78-rpm replicas that spin at 45-rpm. The set includes the two CDs of Johnson's recordings plus a CD of blues recordings that Johnson may have heard coming up and a CD of other artists who recorded on the same days as Johnson and in the same studios. The final disc is a DVD of The Life And Music Of Robert Johnson: Can't You Hear The Wind Howl. You'll find the set here.

JazzWax clip: Here's Robert Johnson's Sweet Home Chicago with terrific scenes of what I assume is Chicago in the '30s...

April 25, 2011

Readers constantly ask what kind of system I use to listen to music. Some emailers grouse about the coldness of CDs, others about the dimness of downloads while still others insist that LPs still rule. All may be true, but I'm quite content with my iTunes library. That's probably because my system is pretty tricked out to expose nearly all the information in each music file. Here's the current setup in my office:

iTunes library. I currently have 30,000 tracks in my iTunes library. But this total grows daily since I add CDs and downloads constantly. A good percentage of the recordings in my library are out of print or they are rare—meaning they were never released digitally or at all. So my iTunes library is rather valuable, meaning I'd hate to lose it due to a computer crash. As a result, I store my iTunes library on an external hard drive—not on my computer's hard drive where it would be trapped if anything happened to my laptop.

My rips are imported in the Apple Lossless Encoder format to maximize sonic duplication. When downloading, I take what I can get, which often is mp3.

My gear: I have a LaCie d2 Quadra Hard Disk 2TB (two terabytes, meaning 2,000 GB) [pictured above]. I bought this one because it runs silently all day long and remains cool to the touch. It's hooked up to my computer through an 800 firewire cable. I back up weekly to a black LaCie Hard Disk Quadra 2 TB [pictured right], which costs less but it is just for backup.

CD/DVD burner. I wore out the CD player in my laptop about two years ago. Rather than have it fixed, I simply bought an external burner. This provides two fabulous benefits. For one, my computer isn't overheated whenever I play a CD or DVD. For another, the unit rips (meaning to import a CD) and burns to my iTunes library twice as fast as my laptop did. This workhorse is hooked up to my laptop through a USB port.

My gear: An Iomega Super DVD Writer 24x Dual-Format Drive. It will play and burn CDs.

Stereo system. My office stereo system (a term that probably betrays my age) packs punch and displays lots of sonic detail. Hooked up to my integrated receiver is a digital-to-analog audio converter as well as a pair of monitor speakers. I connect my Mac to my system via a digital optical cable that slips into my headphone jack and connects to the back of the converter. The headphone jack on my Mac doubles as an optical digital out.

So, my iTunes music files fly out through the cable and into the converter, which unbundles the digital information and pumps it into my receiver, which pushes the information through the speakers. Much of the information coming out of my speakers would not be heard if not for the converter.

My gear: I have an Arcam Solo mini compact integrated stereo receiver from the U.K., a Benchmark DAC1 converter, a Toslink digital optical cable, and a pair of B&W monitor speakers.

Turntable. To prove I'm not a complete philistine, I bought a turntable recently that I use occasionally.

My gear: I have a white Pro-Ject Debut III, but I swapped out the existing black platter for a clear Acryl-it platter the color of a Cryst-o-Mint Lifesaver. There's no fidelity issue with the platter swap. It was just a matter of style.

The point of all of this is that digital files can sound better than anything you own when the right gear is hooked up to fully unpackage the digital data and display it properly. Next additions: A McIntosh MA6300 and a B&W subwoofer.

April 24, 2011

As many of you know, I am as passionate about architecture as I am about music. Back in the mid-'70s, when I was in college, I took quite a few architecture history courses. In a class on the post-war residence, my professor put up a slide of Mies van der Rohe's Farnsworth House. My jaw dropped. As my professor talked about the glass structure completed in 1951 and its importance, I said to myself, "Wow, I can only imagine what it must be like to sleep there." [Photo of Farnsworth House in Plano, Ill., by Mel Theobald]

Well, that fantasy was realized last week when I was given the privilege by Whitney French, the museum's director, of a solo sleepover at the Farnsworth House for the Wall Street Journal. I'm one of only a handful of people who have been granted that honor since the National Trust acquired the transparent residence in 2003. [Pictured: Whitney French and me]

More from Mrs. Thumbs Carllile. Last week I posted about a reader's fascination with country guitarist Thumbs Carllile and the email that his widow sent to the reader. During the week, Virginia Carllile reached out to me. Here's what she said:

"I went to JazzWax and was so grateful that you chose to feature Thumbs. He was a musicians' musician. The players all knew him—jazz, country, blues players. Yet most of the public didn't realize he was different. Most listeners thought he was just playing a lap steel guitar. [Pictured above: Thumbs and Virginia Carllile]

"When Thumbs was five or six years old, his sister had a Hawaiian guitar. She didn't want him messing with it, so she hid the bar used on the strings. He remembered kicking her door until he broke the lock and getting the guitar and taking it out behind the shed. Since he didn't have a bar, he used his thumb to mash the strings. The first tune he learned was 'Nearer My God To Thee. [Picture: Thumbs and Virginia Carllile in the '70s]

"He just never learned to play it the right way, thank goodness. Les Paul always said whoever invented the guitar meant it to be tuned and played Thumbs's way. Les was a great raconteur and could make any story funny.

"Actually, Thumbs was on The Tonight Show five times. Skitch Henderson and later Doc Severinsen just loved him. The first time Thumbs was on, Skitch came over and sat down on the couch and explained to Johnny how different and special Thumbs was.

"Thumbs would tune his guitar to an E flat major chord and that was how he got all those really gorgeous chords. He had no idea what he was doing. He didn't read music, and when somebody like Mundell Lowe or Herb Ellis asked him what chord he had played, he wouldn't have any idea.

"Howard Roberts once wanted to do an instruction book on his method, but Thumbs declined. He said Howard knew so much and would ask so many questions that Thumbs wouldn't be able to remember what it was he did.

"You asked me about my experience in the Air Force. I was trained to be a secretary but shortly after my training was completed, I performed in a show in Frankfurt, where I met Thumbs. I soon was transferred to special services in Stuttgart. They were putting together a musical comedy called Xanadu using both Air Force and Army personnel.

"We traveled all over Germany. It was a one act play with seven set changes, written by two very talented GI's. The choreographer was Bob Sheerer, who later produced the Danny Kaye Show.

"I'm sorry I have gone on so long, but thought some of what I said might be of interest to you.

—Virginia

Patsy Cline. While hanging out at YouTube the other day, I came across this gem here, which aired just weeks before her death in an air crash. For more on Cline, see my post here.

Easter Sunday radio. David Brent Johnson, host of Night Lights at WFIU, offers an hour-long podcast devoted to sacred jazz of the '60s. There are Ellington and Mary Lou Williams entries, as well as tracks by Paul Horn, Lalo Schifrin, Ed Summerlin, Vince Guaraldi, Herbie Hancock, Joe Masters and Al Jazzbo Collins. The podcast is free and can be accessed on your computer from anywhere in the world by going here.

Duke Ellington radio. Photographer Paul Slaughter, author of Jazz Photographs: 1969-2010,will be a guest tomorrow morning (Monday) on KSFR's Jazz Experience show with Arlen Asher from 10 to 11 a.m. (MDT). KSFR-FM is the radio station of the Santa Fe Community College. Paul and Arlen will be talking about Duke Ellington and his recordings. To listen on your computer from anywhere in the world, go here.

Harry James radio. On-air personality Don Voltmer will have a special guest on his Jazztime with Don show next Thursday (April 28)—Viola Monte, who was Harry James' secretary for 40 years. The 86-year-old assistant will be sharing memories as the James platters spin. The show will air on Thursday from 8 to 11 p.m. (MDT) on Aspen Public Radio. You can catch the show from anywhere in the world on your computer by going here and clicking "listen now."

Alec Wilder radio. Back in 1976, South Carolina public radio taped a long series of shows on different composers and singers with songwriter Alec Wilder along for the ride in the booth. Reader Duff Bruce tells me that this award-winning series is being replayed weekly through the end of the year. For the schedule and to listen live, go here.

Eddie Condon radio. When Riverwalk Jazz approached Maggie Condon recently and asked her to work on a special radio program about guitarist Eddie Condon, her dad, Maggie called Hank O'Neal. Hank authored a book on Condon.

Hank tells me they recorded the show at the legendary Nola studios on 57th Street a few weeks ago. "Maggie told family stories, I told stories about working with Eddie on book and recording projects. We also found time to talk about new projects involving Eddie, including the documentary film that is in the works. Maggie has found a great deal of long lost documentary footage that is very exciting."

The producers of the show put it up on the NPR satellite on April 21st. It will run at different times through the week of April 25th. Consult your local listings to find the exact airtime. Also have a look at the Riverwalk link here.

Ross Porter.JazzTimes just published an interview with Ross Porter, the CEO of Canada's premier jazz radio station, Jazz.FM91. Ross is a great guy and a tireless fighter for jazz. What's more, Jazz.FM91 is a long-time supporter of JazzWax. You'll find the interview here.

Greenwich Village on film. Director and Movies 'Til Dawn blogger Raymond De Felitta sent along a fabulous video clip featuring Greenwich Village in the early '60. As Raymond notes, the flute music is grating, and the guy with the guitar and the gal who looks like an early vision of Cindy Sherman mysteriously pop up repeatedly. All of that notwithstanding, this is how the scene looked before hair grew long and faces were painted...

New York subways. When I worked at The New York Times in the early '80s, I had to take the subway home to the Upper West Site at 2 a.m., when my shift ended. These films certainly brought back some dark memories. To this day, whenever I get on a subway, I'm still wary and on guard. Whether you live in New York, have lived in New York or love films of New York, you'll dig this clip...

CD discoveries of the week. For the second week running, a vocalist is taking the top slot in this space. This time around, it's Carmen Cuesta's Mi Bossa Nova. I'm nuts for bossa nova, especially when a vocalist seduces me with one passionate love song after the next. Cuesta now lives in New York but is originally from Spain, where the language is Spanish, not Portuguese. Yet Cuesta delivers one sublime track after the next with tender strokes. And the arrangements are gorgeous, particularly the use of Matt King's piano wandering around on all tracks. All the goodies are here—Jobim's Triste, Fotografia and Meditacao as well as Ronaldo Boscoli and Roberto Batalha Menescal's O Barquinho. Cuesta will take you far, far away. Creed Taylor and Phil Ramone will be gratified to know Cuesta was hugely influenced by Getz/Gilberto. You'll find this one from TweetyRecords at iTunes or here.

A while back, West Coaster Johnny Mandel made the late Stanley Kay a promise. He told his former 1940s Buddy Rich bandmate and friend that he would conduct the Diva Jazz Orchestra, an all-female band led by drummer Sherrie Maricle that Kay managed. By the time the band was ready to record with Johnny conducting, Stanley was quite ill. But he made it to Jazz at Lincoln Center's Allen Room for the band's live recording before he passed away. The result is now out on CD: Johnny Mandel: The Man and His Music. Full disclosure—I wrote the liner notes. The disc covers a wide range of Johnny's arrangements and compositions, including Low Life, Not Really the Blues, Emily, Where Do You Start, The Shadow of Your Smile, Cinnamon and Clove, MASH, I Want to Live! and Tiny Kahn's TNT. You'll find this one from Arbors at iTunes or here.

Walt Weiskopf Quartet: Live was recorded in Roger Hall at the University of South Carolina in 2008, and the result sounds as if it were made in the confines of a plush studio. Joining saxophonist Weiskopf are pianist Renee Rosnes, bassist Paul Gill and drummer Tony Reedus. There's a refreshing intelligence to Weiskopf's playing and sparkling agility, and his songwriting captures jazz's lyricism in the modern style without laying it on thick. Of course, Rosnes swinging on the breaks helps make this a splendid push and pull between brawn and cunning. Dig Rosnes on Dizzy Spells/Jay-Walking. Or the standard ballad Blame It On My Youth. Glorious work. You'll find this one from Capri at iTunes or here.

Oddball album cover of the week. This happy-go-lucky percussionist certainly lives up to the album's subtitle—uninhibited. And in the days before Photoshop, a concept like this must have been executed the old fashioned way—two people in white shirts behind our drum majorette. Clever one, this is.

April 22, 2011

Every so often I receive an email from a reader asking whether I really dig easy listening music. My answer is this: Yes, selectively. So do all writers, secretly. Easy listening is the equivalent of a mental rubdown. While I spend most of my days writing and listening to jazz, rock and r&b recordings, there are times when I need to write and decompress at the same time. Or the weather is so miserable that a tranquil recording is what's needed. A good easy-listening album for about a half hour often does the trick. [Pictured: Paul Weston]

Which gets to the next question that often surfaces in the emails: Which easy-listening album or albums do you find interesting enough to play without gagging? Hands down, my favorite is Paul Weston's Mood for 12, which is joined by Solo Mood on the CD release. Both were issued by Columbia and both are perfect.

First, the pace. The entire CD travels at the speed of your pulse, so it's wonderfully relaxing. Second, the sound. Recorded in 1955, the album not only captures the band era's grandeur but also fits snugly into the newly emerging period of wide-bodied voicing. And third, the material. All of the song choices are smart and framed perfectly, with fine work by trumpeter Ziggy Elman [pictured], tenor saxophonist Ted Nash, clarinetist Matty Matlock, trombonist Bill Schaefer, guitarist George Van Eps and pianist Paul Smith among others.

Each tune from Mood for 12 offers a different instrumental surprise. I'm Coming Virginia ends with a terrific muted trumpet cluster. Or trumpeter Clyde Hurley's crisp solo on Memories of You. And Nash's sleepy solo on the now forgotten tune Emaline. All are pure bliss.

Solo Mood is the cousin of Mood for 12, with many of the same musicians. Here, Weston offers fabulous charts on A Hundred Years From Today, Dancing on the Ceiling and Autumn in New York, with guitarist Barney Kessel soloing with clarinet and flute backing his lines. And oh those Weston intros!

Eventually, Weston shredded his jazz credibility by arranging increasingly insipid easy listening albums. One suspects there was enormous pressure to earn a living there, and the sticky-sweet stuff paid the bills. But before Weston slipped away, he hit a sweet spot in the zone between mood music and jazz. No one could ace those like Weston.

JazzWax tracks: The CD featuring Mood for 12 and Solo Mood is available here. Or you can download Mood for 12here and Solo Moodhere.

JazzWax clip: Here's trumpeter Clyde Hurley on Memories of You from Paul Weston's Mood for 12...

April 21, 2011

This photo of Woody Herman's band in the summer of 1948 (based on the light jackets) is another one from Betty's collection of snapshots and stills. It was sent to me by her friend Chris. Betty has donated all of her prints, including this one, to Rutgers University's Institute of Jazz Studies. But since she and Chris also are big JazzWax readers, they wanted you to see this one, too. [Click on photo to enlarge]

April 20, 2011

When I was a teenager in the 1970s living with my parents an hour north of New York in Westchester County, I had friends who worked in the record departments of stores that anchored local malls. They knew I loved music and that on my trips to New York I often brought back hip jazz records from stores called Sam Goody and King Karol. One of my cashier friends offered me a deal: He'd buy any three records I wanted in the store with his deep discount if I would buy him one Albert King record in the city. Sounded like a good deal to me.

Once in the stores, however, I noticed that the "K" section was fat with quite a few Kings. That's when I started to listen to the blues, to figure out what would blow my friend's mind and keep our deal going.

Before buying, I'd always strike up conversations with clerks and listen to opened product. Albert King I found out wasn't related to B.B. King or Freddie King, but he did play the electric blues on guitar with enormous technical power. Unlike B.B. and Freddie, Albert liked to play in the upper register, and his sustained notes and call-and-response style between his vocals and riffs endeared him to quite a few rock artists of the day.

If you're unfamiliar with King and his blues, Concord has just issued a fabulous two-CD set, The Definitive Albert King on Stax. The tracks for the label were recorded between 1966 and 1984, and through these recordings you hear the electric blues change from a guitar-focused idiom to one that offered greater textures provided by horns, drums and electric bass. And why not? After all, the label was Stax in Memphis, which meant access to Booker T. and the MGs., the Bar-Kays and Memphis Horns.

The album opens with King's hit for the Bobbin label in 1961, Don't Throw Your Love on Me So Strong, a medium-tempo blues. The rest of the compilation is devoted to Stax tracks, including stunners like Crosscut Saw, Blues Power and Tupelo (Part 1).

Unlike most blues retrospectives, this one keeps getting better as the years roll on. By the 1970s, King's output for Stax was growing more soulful and funky without ever selling the blues short. Dig Can't You See What You're Doing to Me, with King's guitar wailing away in front of a funky brass section and hammering bass. Or his cover of the Rolling Stones' Honky Tonk Woman backed by a gospel chorus. Bill Dahl's liner notes quote King on his choice of the song: "The Rolling Stones we have to thank for keeping the blues alive."

In the mid-'70s, we also hear a fair amount of experimentation, including an Isaac Hayes-like backdrop for That's What the Blues Is All About and the soul-groove update of Crosscut Saw, a song that King first recorded in 1966. Sadly King suffered a fatal heart attack in 1992.

King had a big influence on rockers Mick Taylor, Mike Bloomfield and Eric Clapton, who has said that much of his playing on Cream's Disraeli Gears in 1967 was inspired by King. I know my mall friend, wherever he is, will be happy to hear about this King set.

JazzWax tracks: The Definitive Albert King on Stax (Concord) can be found at iTunes or here.

April 19, 2011

Last week, JazzWax reader Uwe Zänisch in Berlin sent along a note about guitarist Kenneth "Thumbs" Carllile (1931-1987), a country picker with a superb technique. Rather than spoil the story, let me have Uwe pick it up:

"Some days ago I was at YouTube and found a very interesting clip featuring an unusual guitarist in a Batman T-shirt. He held his guitar in an odd position and played it like a lap steel. With his right thumb he created a nice mellow sound, and his technical ability astonished me. The video came from an early morning TV show in 1966. The man at the table is Roger Miller, singer of King of the Road.

"There is another clip from this show with a great rendition of Yakety Axe played by the house band at 6:22. I still didn't know the name of the guitar player. Then at 10:14, the guitarist was interviewed and his name was revealed: Thumbs Carllile.

After a Google search for “Thumbs Carllile,” I found a tribute site here. I also learned that Mr. Carllile played in the '50s as a staff musician on the Ozark Jubilee Show.

"Beside this, he worked as a member of the Bill Wimberley band. With the band, he had a solo spot here where he simulates the playing styles of his guitar colleagues. I also learned that Mr. Carllile played with Roger Miller's [pictured] band from 1964 to 1972 and made LPs as a leader.

"In the 80’s he was diagnosed with cancer, which fortunately went into remission. His live recordings from 1987 show a man with unbelievably fast hands on the strings, sometimes too fast for the listener's ear. Tragically, that the same year Thumbs Carllile died of heart disease.

"When I discovered this astonishing musician I wondered why he was so little known today. So I reached out to his widow, Virginia Boyle Carllile, who graciously responded. Mrs. Carllile has permitted you to reprint her note to me below.

"Dear Uwe,

"Thank you so much for your interest in Thumbs. I hadn't seen the video you sent, so it was like a present for me. I wish you could have seen him in person. He was just incredible, and the best thing was he really had no idea how good he was (or if he did, he never let it show).

"I met him in Germany at the Palm Gardens in Frankfort. They had a service club there. Thumbs was in the Army and had been transferred to Special Services after mashing one of his thumbs in gun repair. I was in the Air Force.

"On Saturday nights, they had a show called USARS Grand Ole Opry. He had been on it for some time. I was stationed in Wiesbaden, and Zeb Allen had a band and had asked me to appear with them. That's the night I met Thumbs. I was the first girl that was ever on that show, and of course the GIs gave me a big welcome.

"While waiting to go on, I was told by one of the guys in the green room that Thumbs had said, 'I'm gonna marry that girl.' And he did. And I'm so happy he did. Again, I want you to know how much I appreciated you sending me the links to the video clips. Thumbs was very special and I miss him a lot."

About

Marc Myers writes regularly for The Wall Street Journal and is author of "Anatomy of a Song" (Grove) and "Why Jazz Happened." Founded in 2007, JazzWax is a two-time winner of the Jazz Journalists Association's best blog award.